


Larabee Initiative: Predestination

by farad



Series: Larabee Initiative [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: A story of origins, a mixing of universes.





	Larabee Initiative: Predestination

**Author's Note:**

> Conceived accidentally (pun intended), this is for the 2018 Snowflake Challenge, Day 14, Create a Fanwork. It combines the two fandoms I have spent the most time writing - Mag 7 and Man from U.N.C.L.E, as well as Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., and is part of the Larabee Initiative series. A great confluence of comments and ideas led me to this, and it's working on inspiring more parts of this universe.

Mid 1980s, Northeastern United States.

Napoleon Solo, Section 1, Number 1, United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, stood silently, staring through the thick plexiglass window into the hospital’s nursery. The child, the boy, was not happy, his arms and legs moving spasmodically, his tiny mouth open, his face a deep red that contrasted sharply with the paleness – whiteness – of his tiny body. Napoleon thought he heard the screams, loud and angry, a match to the fierceness on the child’s face. 

“I think he takes after you.” 

He turned to look at his companion. She was looking through the window, her face in profile. She had aged well – but that was no surprise. She had never looked anything but perfect, a function of genes, care, and money. Even now she still had a well-rounded body – not too thin, not too fat, her muscles trim but strong; her features were softer with age, the cheekbones not as sharp, the nose a little more curved, but her eyes were just as bright and clear. 

And her hair, her biggest vanity, was still the platinum of the past few decades. The style had changed, of course, a function of fashion and age. Close cropped, but not mannish at all; layered, with the bangs upswept and her ears exposed, so that her eyes, always so expressive, seemed larger than ever, and her lips more pronounced. 

An elf, he thought. She looked now like a happy, cheerful elf. 

One that would work from the inside to swindle every penny Santa had, and then some. 

“Napoleon?” she asked, turning to look up at him. 

No matter how he tried – and God knew he had tried, so many times over the last thirty years – he could not resist the way she said his name, the way she looked at him. 

“What’s his name?” he asked, trying to ignore the affection he felt for her. Trying to ignore the connection that bound them together always. 

She sighed and turned back to look at the small bundle of anger. “Maude is such a contrary child. She seems to believe that his father loves her – loves them. Apparently, she also takes after you, far more than I had hoped.” 

He smiled despite himself. “It’s possible that she’s right, you know. Peter is a good man.” He reached out and dropped an arm around her shoulders, and after a few seconds, she relaxed, allowing the intimacy. He tried to ignore the satisfaction he felt from her acceptance. 

“Is he?” she asked. “I understand that he’s not working for you.” 

He laughed, amused at her simplistic view of the world. But then, that was part of why he had come back to her, so many times. She was a rare woman, one for whom the world was black or white. Not grey, very little middle ground. But it wasn’t ‘good’ and ‘bad’, not in the sense that he had. It was ‘me’ and ‘them’. 

Things were either for her advantage or they were not. Even in the organization for which she worked, in which she had risen to dizzying heights, her polarity had always made it easy for him to deal with her. She could - and did – sell out anyone who was not a benefit for her directly. 

Her work for THRUSH went only so far as it paralleled her own ends. 

“I know this is hard for you,” he said teasingly, “but we actually approve the work of Doctors Without Borders. We don’t always agree with them, but they are a good organization. And to be fair – he is a doctor. Maude could have done a lot worse.” 

“Of course she could!” She stepped away from him, and his arm dropped to his side. “Personally, I am surprised she didn’t!” The words were an insult, but her tone was still fond – as he knew it would be. And the insult wasn’t actually to their daughter, it was to him. Because he had demanded, using the only influence he could at the time, that Maude – their daughter – know her father and spend time with him. 

Interestingly, pleasantly, Angelique – the woman beside him now, Maude’s mother – had agreed. In fact, she had encouraged it. 

Napoleon had thought for a long time that it as because she wanted a way to take advantage of him, that she wanted a weapon to use against him. 

But as Maude had grown up, come into her teens, he had come to understand that Maude was subject to her own biological constraints, and that her maternal instinct overrode even her own instinct for self-preservation. 

Between them, they had managed to raise a beautiful, smart, and independent young woman, who had found – on her own – a smart, socially engaged young doctor. 

Not that she couldn’t have made it on her own, but they wanted things for her that they, themselves, had not had. A normal life, a safe life.

And the young people were happy. 

“So what is his name?” Napoleon asked again. 

Angelique gave a soft chuckle. “Ezra. Apparently, it is a family name from the Standish side. Ezra Peter Standish. A name that is in no way tied to either of us.” 

He looked through the window at the baby, who had stopped screaming. Instead, he was looking out, his wide eyes glaring but curious, as if he could see them. 

“Do you blame her?” he asked, watching the boy. “It’s not as if we gave her an innocent childhood.” 

Angelique sighed, but, surprisingly, she didn’t argue. “We did what we could for her. To be fair, neither one of us believes in innocence. We wanted her to be safe.” 

They had agreed on that, and in the doing, trusted each other. Maude had gone to the best schools – ones with extensive security. She had had the best of everything. 

Except parents, of course. To keep her safe had meant limiting their own contact with her. Keeping her off the radar of their enemies – who were more extensive than either realized. While their respective organizations were at war with each other, other people and organizations had also become involved over the years. 

Speaking of which . . . “Are you safe?” Without thinking, he reached into his pants pocket to touch his communicator, thinking to take a picture of his grandson – his grandson! - but he caught himself. They had agreed long ago that they would not have pictures of Maude, and by extension, her husband and, now, child. It was too dangerous for all of them. 

She sighed but he felt her shoulder brush against his, a hint of their former intimacy. “As safe as you are, cher. I do miss the old days, though, when there were rules. Today . . .”

He nodded, putting his arm around her again. This time, she settled easily against him. “They are everywhere, like rats. I’ve found several in our organization, and I fear there are more. I fear they have managed to get into everything.” 

“Rats,” she mused. “An apt description.” She tilted her head so that it rested on his collarbone. The scent of jasmine tickled his nose. It was new for her, and surprisingly light, almost clean. “I think more and more of retirement every day. This,” she lifted a hand, indicating the child in the nursery, “complicates things.” 

He glanced down to her, but he couldn’t see her eyes, only her elegant nose. He started to ask for elaboration, but he didn’t have to. She would no more be able to have a life with her grandchild than she had with her daughter. Occasional visits, carefully constructed for security, would be the best either could give the young family. That, and as much economic resource as possible for their future. 

But staying ‘in the business’ also allowed her – and him, too – access to information and resources that could be used to shield and protect their daughter. Enemies no longer seemed to care whether one was retired or not. As she had said, the rules had changed. 

Instead of going down that long, dark road, he said lightly, “Retire again, you mean? How many times have you gotten out of the game?”

She laughed lightly, taking his direction. “Touche. Speaking of which, how is your dour Russian friend? Is he still about? I hear little of him these days.” 

He smiled, though the question stirred the constant anxiety he had for his closest friend and former partner. “He’s still about. I’ll give him your regards.” Not that he would have to; Illya was most likely listening in even now; if he knew the Russian, he’d managed to hack into the hospital’s cameras and any available audio system. He might not leave his rooms anymore, trapped in that damned wheelchair, but he had managed to create a mechanical system to let him travel more extensively than he ever had as an agent.

“I’m sure he will accept them in the spirit in which they are given,” she said with a laugh. The animosity between the two had only marginally diminished over the years. 

They were quiet for a time, just watching the child. He fell into a fitful sleep, his hands and legs moving sporadically in small jerks. 

“I think he’s taking both of us,” Napoleon said eventually. 

“Poor Maude,” Angelique said.

“Poor world,” Napoleon countered with a smile of his own. His internal sense of time told him he needed to be on his way. He’d probably been here too long already; someone had probably noticed and word would get out, and his little family would be jeopardized. 

As if knowing his mind, Angelique said, “You won’t go to her room.” 

Napoleon shook his head, stepping away from her, drawing back into himself. He noticed that she also closed in, both of them girding for their re-entry into their own worlds. “I’ll call her this evening,” he said, looking one last time at the baby. 

Angelique nodded and she, too, looked once more at the baby. Then, with deliberation, she turned around and moved toward the door. “Be safe, cher.” 

“You, too,” he said as she drew the door open and stepped through. She didn’t look back.

And though he waited at least thirty seconds before following her out, giving her time to get ahead of him, he didn’t look back either. It was a trick he had learned decades ago, from the man who had held his job before him: freeze the image in your mind, so that you can keep it with you always. Call it up every night, to keep it fresh. Never muddy it by looking back.

It wasn’t advice, it was a way of life, and now more than ever. 

As he walked down the corridor, a young woman in a dark pantsuit fell into step beside him. “Mr. Fury in on the line for you, sir. He says he needs help with a situation, and he doesn’t trust his usual back-up.” 

Napoleon nodded, picking up his pace. “I’ll take it in the car.” As they neared the door, he took his sunglasses from his suit coat pocket and slipped them on, wondering whether it was aliens, magical demons, or reborn Nazis that Fury would need help with. The younger generation seemed to be fighting stranger and more unfathomable enemies. 

But then, the old tactics were apparently still working. The three, together, seemed to be coming together in the form of HYDRA, another criminal enterprise with aspirations. One that had been, supposedly, dead, but apparently wasn’t. 

The only good thing, so far, was that HYDRA and THRUSH considered themselves rivals, and both were still reasonably small and insular. But one day, he knew, they’d find a way to work together. 

If they couldn’t work together to stop them now. 

As he went through the hospital doors, he saw a flash of silver in the distance, then a door closing on a sports car. The best thing he had as a weapon was driving away. If anyone could thwart a THRUSH-HYDRA alliance, it was the woman who now had another generation to save. 

Well, her and UNCLE . . .


End file.
